


Guns and Roses

by Nekolatte



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Devil May Cry
Genre: Cuz Fighting Hellspawn Brings People Together, Fluff and Smut, It's Gonna Be, M/M, Self-Indulgent, With Some TEAM-UP, idk - Freeform, let me have this, like I'm not even kidding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-07-14 20:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekolatte/pseuds/Nekolatte
Summary: Leon doesn't know what he's gotten himself into, and Dante's just having a grand time.





	1. Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> I make zero claim of characters staying 100% IC considering it's gonna be s o m u c h fluff. But I really don't expect a lot of people to read this anyway.

"Heyー I need you to stay awake."

A dull ring filled Leon's ears as he groggily dragged himself back to semi-consciousness. The first thing that registered was an ache flooding every inch of him, and a fierce pressure in his skull that made his head feel too big. He tried to sit up, cheek scratched from the cement below, and found he only had enough energy to roll onto his back. Pain flared all along his spine as his weight redistributed, and he twisted to find a comfortable position against the hard floor. Everything in him was telling him to take a break, to keep his eyes closed and sleep, but a snap of fingers right next to his ear caused him to flinch. The violent lurch churned his stomach unpleasantly, and he rolled onto his side to empty all its contents without preamble.

"Hey! Watch the shoes." A disgruntled voice sounded above him, even as Leon coughed and sputtered, choking on his own vomit, until strong hands settled on him and moved him as if he were a small child and not a full grown man. He was leaned against a wall, legs stretched out in front of him, and for the life of him, Leon couldn't lift his head to see his...rescuer? Bit and pieces were coming back to him about the events that lead up to him getting a thorough ass kicking, first being orders to investigate a possible viral outbreak in some tiny town that thought itself a city. It was supposed to be recon, nothing more. Then he ran across some monster that definitely wasn't an infectee, and more of its buddies showed up before he was overpowered and sent flying into a wall. He wasn't dead, though. Leon, on all accounts, should have been dead. As if answering his unasked question, a boot knocked into his ankle.

"Trish, you got this? I think sleeping beauty wants a nap."

"Yes, yesー" Feminine, amused. The owner of the sing-song voice spoke loud enough to be heard over the sound of gunfire, though didn't seem to be shouting. "Go tend to your new friend. You owe me, though."

"How 'bout dinner and a movie?"

Hands were on Leon again, and he expected to be dragged to a safer locationー because his legs felt useless, and his head was still swimming violently. But, instead, a strong arm curled under his knees, another arm against his back, and he was lifted without even a grunt of effort. He was weightless, cradled to a broad chest, and felt a brief pang of envy before his head lolled and came to rest on the crook of the stranger's neck. He found warm skin there, pleasant against the bitter chill that had crawled into his bones, and he shivered at the woodsy scent that filled his nose.

Either he was too far gone or not enough to notice some guy’s aftershave when his whole body was screaming in pain. Priorities.

"Oh, Dante. We both know you can't afford me." A piercing screech that did nothing for Leon's headache shook the night, and he huddled closer to the stranger, his arms wrapping tightly across his stomach. There was too much pain there. "Hurry and go; I'll meet you back at the shop."

"Bring a pizza on your way back!" Came the playful retort, and Leon felt the deep timbre of the man's voice, being pressed so close. He could have sworn he heard the woman groan, but he was already being carried off, away from the battle.

It was a struggle to keep his eyes open: everything was a blur of colors and motion, and it did nothing to help his nausea one bit. Each turn seemed nonsensical, and he almost asked through a rough throat if they were lost, when they slowed and the soft glow of neon covered him like a blanket. He moved slowly, carefully, and caught a brief glimpse of a sign before he was lead through a set of double doors.

The interior was a mess, but there seemed to be some reason within the chaos. He spotted a billiards table and a jukebox, a bar and desk. It looked like a bachelor pad had collided violently with an office, and neither party came out entirely unscathed. He was set on a couch that had definitely seen better days, but the seats were broken in, and he melted into the cushions. A reprieve for his back; he felt way older than twenty-eight.

"You're dripping blood everywhere. I need all of this off." Hands were on him already, working off his holsters and coat, and Leon hissed bitterly as the cinched pressure was what had been keeping him together. He felt cold, and his fingers were going numb.

"N-Not on thー the first...date; don't even kー know your name," he gritted through clenched teeth, even as he attempted to help the man get him stripped down. He was rewarded by a stretch of silence, punctuated by a snort and head shaking.

"Dante." At Leon's withering, impatient stare, he seemed to pick up on the unspoken question. "It's mononymous, like Cher."

“‘m Leon.”

They worked in silence together then, Leon still attempting to see through his blurry vision, but it was getting better. He caught sight of an angular nose, hair so pale it looked white, sweeping low and soft over hooded, blue eyes. A strong, square jaw covered in dark stubble; Leon didn't know why, but he wanted to run his fingers across it.

"Hey, I know I'm handsome, but c'mon. You're gonna make me blush, staring like that." The shirt came off, and Dante winced in sympathy with the injuries he found on Leon. It wasn't unwelcome; Leon must have hit his head pretty hard to accept pity.

"Don't look like th'type tー to blush." The end rose into a yowl of pain as his injuries were prodded, and he turned a furious glare on the other. Dante, at least, had the decency to look castigated.

"Just checking for internal bleeding; humans are real soft, ya know?"

And just what the hell did that mean?

"Lean forward a bit." Leon did, albeit reluctantly, as each motion set his chest on fire. His breathing came harder, labored as if he ran a marathon at full sprint, and gentle fingers skimmed over his sidesー his backー methodical, clinical. But Leon still shivered at warm skin and cool leather, at the touch. It felt more intimate than it should've beon. Leon attempted to shake off the residual feel, and was rewarded with his head swimming. He swayed in place before a soft touch on his shoulders kept him steady. "Alright, nothing seems brokenー hardly any open wounds, but you're definitely in for a hell of a bruising. Let's get you stitched up."

As Leon tracked Dante's movements, a curious thought occurred to himー not once did the man even imply at calling someone, anyone, with legal authority to handle...whatever the hell Leon was currently going through. This office didn't look official by any standards, not even for some secret service, and the rusted first aid kit Dante was bringing back looked completely untouched in years. There were a million questions in Leon's head, but only one mouth to speak. "A-Are you... you medー medically trained?"

Because the man was staring at the contents of the tin box like if they were alien probing devices, sitting on the coffee table with his legs spread and Leon awkwardly trapped between them. Dante looked up and grinned, lopsided and boyish. It shouldn't have been charming. "Not in the official sense." He cleared his throat, and pulled out a bottle of peroxide. Leon eyed it wearily, but suffered through the pain once he gave the go ahead. His fingers clawed at the couch, teeth clenched, and eyes screwed shut. He jumped each time Dante cleaned the wounds, dousing more peroxide into the flayed-open skin, causing the hem of Leon's slacks to soak right through.

Leon got a chance to breathe as the stranger fished out a needle in a sterile casing and some surgical thread. "Listen, I would call an ambulance for you, but... I kinda messed up. Shot before I noticed you were there. Someー okay, a lot of, uh, goop got on you. If I could hose you down and send you on your merry way, I would. Believe me; we'd all be happier for it."

Dante perched himself on the edge of the table, surrounding Leon with that same woodsy smellー only now Leon picked up the smell of gunpowder, leather, and a sharp spice that made Leon queasy. His stomach voiced its displeasure, but the other didn't seem to notice. Or care. Dante was silently instructing Leon on what to move, how to hold still, and then pushing and pulling the suture through skin with a distinct sort of ease that betrayed familiarity, but just not on human being. He kept talking while Leon tried not to pass out from pain or his blinding headache. Thank god he had a decent pain tolerance.

"But some of it got onto your wounds, and it's probably in your bloodstream right now." Leon looked at the man, a weight dropping in his stomach. He thought back to Racoon City, and the hell a single virus had caused then. It must have shown on his face, because after re-threading the needle for the second gash from what Leon distinctly remembered were claws, Dante glanced up, and quickly shook his head. "It's notー it'll pass through; you'll get flu-like symptoms, at most. But, well... You're not just some passerby with some bad luck, are you?"

It was like a switch flicked, and what was once a relaxed and friendly atmosphere plummeted. Leon hadn't noticed before, head spinning too fast, and his trust easily given to this stranger without a second thought. But now he noticed the sense of wrong that hung like a curtain around the walls. Like walking down a dimly-lit hallway in a dilapidated building, floorboards creaking and doors groaning on rusted hinges, yawning open to dark, unknown depths. And the man trapping Leon in place, having him corneredー weapons taken, at his mercyー was a deadly predator that hunted with a casual indifference that should be feared.

Leon didn't realize he was holding his breath until Dante broke eye-contact, and resumed his work. The curtains no longer lifted all the way up; Leon knew they were there now. "Pretty good with a gun, to keep yourself alive for as long as you did; rigid, formal. So someone important has to know about the things you saw back there, sent you here, and that's already a problem. An evacuation will only cause more problems. You can't quarantine this. And involvement from an outside party will only make my job harder. So I can't have you taking this...bacterial strain outside the city, where doctors will ask too many questions, and military people are likely to overhear. Confirmation makes people move quicker; makes them plan."

They fell into silence again as Dante worked until the thread was cut, and deemed the last gash not worth the stitching, and merely closed it up with a series of butterfly closures. "I'm not keeping you prisoner hereー not a huge fan of the whole 'against someone's will' thing. But, if you don't want to stay until I give you a clean bill of health, then..." He let the threat hang, and Leon's survival instincts kicked in.

Pause. Assess. React. Leon was in no condition to fight his way out, but if he bided his time, more options could open up. He could sneak out, radio for help. Or, at the very least, get his damn gun backー why did he let the man take it? Where was it, even? So Leon nodded, made a show of wincingー hardly a show when he still felt like he was going to come apart at the seamsー and gave the man a defeated stare. "Can't really do much in this condition."

Dante lazily smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He silently instructed Leon again to move the way he wanted him to, and began taping gauze pads to the oozing wounds. Then he wrapped the whole mess that was Leon's ribcage tightly, and somehow that made it easier to breath, despite the pinch.

"Alright, I'm going to need you to stand for a bit, and try not to freak out."

The last part was tacked on after Leon was helped to his feet, a harder feat than it should've been. His thighs were trembling, and the pain at the base of his spine was troubling. He was only vaguely aware of Dante being taller than him by an inch or two before hands fell on on his hips, and fingers squeezed. Leon jerked in an attempt to get away from the searing, piercing pain and discomfort, tripping over himself in the process. There was panic in Dante's features as he surged forward to properly grab Leon, even if he had instinctively let go in the first place.

They tangoed for a second, where neither party was sure what they were doing or grabbing at, and Leon went from pushing the man away to grabbing at his ridiculous coat, because his back was just a throbbing mess now. And his skin felt stretched where the stitches were placed, his head was aching again, and he wanted to throw up. But the man was solid, sturdy, and more than capable of carrying his weight, going so far as to lift Leon off the ground, his toes barely skimming the ground. Leon's breathing came heavy, labored, with sweat across his brow, and he really should feel awkward about breathing down a stranger's neck, but he hurt. Everywhere, at once.

Dante was talking, once Leon regained some semblance of composure and realized the rest of the world existed. He was still being held, though there was also a large, solid palm rubbing soothing circles along his lower back. He clutched at the coat, willing his embarrassment to leaveー except the repetitive strokes were soothing, and though it didn't alleviate any pain whatsoever, it still felt like a comfort. So he stayed, and listened to the conversation going over his head.

"I really need this day to be over." That was Dante, baritone more calming than it should've been.

"What you really need is to call Lady. She's the one with the government contacts."

"So she can charge me for a consult?"

"I'm just saying." It was that woman, from before. Leon lifted his head to try and find her, but Dante's shoulder was difficult to leave behind. "Oh, he's stirring. You really should work on your bedside manner, Dante."

"I told him not to freak out." The rubbing stopped, and only Leon's stubborn will kept him from whimpering pathetically. God, the man didn't even have to threaten himー Leon wasn't telling anyone about any of this ever. Some fine officer of the Secret Service he was; it was his first day on the police force all over again. "Hey, buddy. So you definitely fucked up your pelvis, I think. But considering you could flail like you did, it can't be all too bad. You'll be fine."

"I almost swooned; good job, Dante."

Leon wasn't in the mood for these back-and-forth quips, especially when he wasn't part of them, so he worked to put both hands on Dante’s shoulders and push himself away. Dante let him move without a fuss, hands hovering close and ready to grab at him again should the need arise, but Leon managed to get himself back onto the couch with only minimal cursing. He was encouraged to lay back after a swift tap to the ankle with a boot.

“Let me go grab an ice pack.”

With Dante gone, the woman approached with the subtlety of a golden viper, and Leon had been around his fair share to know. He eyed her wearily over the fall of his sweat-laden bangs, though she did nothing more than set the first-aid kit to rights, holding each item as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of them. Either Leon was lucky enough to be found by two of the weirdest people in the city, or the whole population was just like this. Would explain why there wasn't a massive panic over all the noise Leon had made fighting those things.

“Stare any harder, and I’ll have to charge you.”

Leon started, catching direct eye-contact, though refused to look away from that impish smile that only seemed to grow as the silence stretched. Coughing self-consciously, Leon finally brokeー and turned to rest properly on the couch with his eyes closed.

“You're Trish, right?”

“The one and only. Heard Dante call you Leon. Very fitting.”

Brows pinch, though Leon still refused to open his eyes. “Why’s that?”

“Since you’re not looking, I’m shrugging my shoulders.”

While reluctant, Leon forced himself to glance over from the corner of his eyeー to take in the gorgeous blond sitting right in front of him as if she was in no hurry to leave. She caught his eye, and seemed to try for a friendly smile. “He’ll take good care of you, promise. Just make sure he doesn't try to feed you pizza morning, noon, and night.”

“Trish, if you could please stop talking to my patientーthanks.”

The impish smile made a return, and after a soft pat on the knee, the woman in question got up and left the way she came, a “Call Lady” thrown over her shoulder before disappearing out the entrance. Dante didn't take her place but stood beside Leon as he handed over a pack of frozen strawberries wrapped around a frayed dish towelー Leon was far too exhausted to question it.


	2. Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying out alternating POVs. We'll see how that goes.

Dante was certainly in a pickle.   
  
Spread out on his desk was every item he found on his patient's person: standard things that weren't really worrying like keys, extra ammo, and nondescript pills. Though Dante had to raise an eyebrow at the grenade, and keep himself from cursing loudly at the ID with the presidential crest and Leon's stoic face staring back at him. He would've made a joke about the guy needing to smile once in a while, but Dante couldn't drag any residual humor from his stores for this. He hadn't been trying to scare the guy when he said outside involvement would only make things worseー demons didn't take kindly to bullets in the face. And he doubted they had a holy-blessed arsenal like Lady. Sure, any competent priest could make holy water, but only a _really good one_ could bless a missle.

If Leon really was sent here _officially_ , then he would need to report back. Someone was waiting for that call; someone with the power to send _more_ somebodies in search of Leon. More people to get in the way, and more people Dante had to keep an eye on. It would be so much easier to let the city burn and find himself a nice, secluded beach to retire toー too bad he _felt responsible_. He missed the days when the gigs were just for fun.

Taking Leon’s entire wallet, Dante wandered towards the back of the shop, into the kitchen and to the corded phone hanging next to the fridge. He knew the number from memory, though still hesitated with the phone cradled against his shoulder, and a finger poised over the faded buttons. It wasn't that he was _afraid_ of Lady, but he had taken her half of their last paycheck to pay off his rent without letting her know beforehand, and the threat of castration she threw at him had sounded _very real_. Still, Trish had a point: Lady would know what was going on, or, rather, had a better chance of knowing.

Before he could change his mind, Dante punched in the numbers and forced himself to suppress any instinct of hanging up as the phone rang and connected. A groggy voice greeting him with a mix of confusion and ire, and Dante couldn't help his smile. “Good morning, Sunshine. I need your help.”

《“Dante? It'sー it's _three in the morning. What is wrong with you?_ ”》

“He's asleep and it's the only time I can call.”

《“ _Whoー?_ ”》

Dante brought up ID and read off the name though he memorized it already. “Leon Scott Kennedy, US Strategic Command.”

《“Wー _USSTRATCOM?_ ”》

“You're just making sounds.”

《“That's the president’sー!”》

“Yeah, I got that from the freedom bird staringー”

《“Dante, _shut up._ ”》

He hated that he immediately did.

While Lady seemed to be rummaging around on her end, Dante wandered to the fridge and looked through it's empty contents as if something would manifest if he thought hard enough. He would have to feed Leon something when he finally woke up, but outside frozen pizza and Hot Pockets, Dante wasn't exactly a culinary genius. He wondered if his usual pizza place still sold those soup-in-a-bread-bowl things, and was pulled from the half-thought of searching for the menu when a cold chill ran down his spine.

Like a hound on guarding duty, Dante's head swiveled over to the disturbance, feeling his breath freeze in his lungs and his blood run hot. He murmured a goodbye to a protesting Lady, and ran towards the front roomー bursting through the swinging door to see a bird composed of snowy white feathers sitting on top of an absolutely-still Leon. The very warmth was sucked out of the room, frost clinging to everything, and Dante's steps crunched lightly underfoot, though the bird made no sign of hearing him. Dante's first thought was to wonder how it got inー his next was to wonder what it was doing to Leon.

The answer revealed when he seemingly got too close for the creature’s comfort, its head twisting to face himー flat and blank save for a swirling black vortex where an ungodly screech punctured the night and rattled Dante’s teeth. The creature’s neck twisted in a tight circle, stretching out like putty right at Dante. In an instant, Ebony was out and firing a roundー aim precise and completely missing Leon, though the demon was fast and evaded with a flap of its huge wings.

With its talons out of Leon, the man in question began trembling, though still did not rouse. Even shouting his name wasn't earning any type of reaction, and the trembles only got worse the further the demon attempted to flee. It spotted its exitー a window recently broken from the second storyー and made a straight line for it. Another shot, aimed at the spot where the demon would be, proved useless as it changed directions midair without much drag. At least it got the thing away from the window, though now it looked for another way out.

Dante's shop had never been _organized_ , but there had always been some fitting aesthetic in the madness. The creature now was just making _madness_ , as it crashed and knocked into everything that wasn't too heavy to move, and Dante _was done._ His patience was gone, which was a rarity, as Dante often took punches without even the vaguest prickling of indignation. He wanted to chalk it up to the destruction of his shop, and not because someone under his care had been put in dangerー _was still in danger._

Rebellion was snatched from its casual lean against his desk and, after vaulting the piece of furniture, Dante had the weapon sweeping in a wide arc within the cramped space. The blade sung as blood coated its steel, and the demon crumpled to the ground with a sliced chest and a lopped-off wing. It still attempted to move away, screeching its final wail until Dante ran the sharp tip of his blade across the thing’s stretched neck, and it had the decency to dissolve into smoldering ashes as it died.

Somewhere behind Dante, Leon drew in a sharp breath, and it was mildly embarrassing how quick Dante was to be at his side: assessing injuries, old and new, and trying to calm the frantic man down. But Leon was looking around wild-eyed and dazed, as if not really seeing his environment and still lost in whatever memories the demon had put inside his head.

“Hey, hey, _hey_. Leonー Leon, listen to me.” Dante kept his tone even, low. The palm on Leon’s shoulder gently trying to guide him back down, though Dante struggling himself to not break the man with too much force. Leon was shaking his head and fighting him, grasping at Dante’s sleeve, trembling fingers constantly losing their grip and scrambling to find it again. He wasn't pushing Dante off, but seemed to be trying to hold onto him. And if that didn't call to Dante’s soft, human part, nothing would.

A palm found Leon’s cheek, directed his wild gaze onto Dante as he waited patiently for some flicker of understanding in bright blue eyes. It took a while, with Leon muttering words and phrases that made no sense to Dante, but now was not the time to pry. Instead he spoke soft yet firm, hand moving to the man’s shoulder to squeeze it. “Everything's okay, Leonー you were dreaming. That's all it was; you're safe here.”

Leon sighed, seemed to come back more into himself as the seconds trickled, and nodded, finally letting Dante go to slip back onto the couch with a wince. He closed his eyes, and wrapped an arm where the demon had been perched on moments before. “Just a dream…”

“Yeah. Only a dream.” Dante waited until Leon nodded off again, until his heart beat evened out, and slipped his coat off his shoulders to drape it over the sleeping man. It wouldn't protect him from another essence-eater, but it gave Dante some odd ease of mind that allowed him back into the kitchen to continue his talk with Lady.


	3. Play Along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really didn't expect the attention this got. lmao

When Leon woke, there was an odd taste in his mouth and his chest felt split open, though a cursory glance showed no additional damage since yesterdayー the bandages only a soft pink where the wounds had been worst. He had to give credit to Dante: the man knew his stitch, and he thought he knew why.

The coat pooled around his waist looked like it had seen quite a few battles. A bit frayed but carefully maintained, old patched with new that it was nearly indiscernible. The leather so smooth to the touch that Leon found himself touching it more than he ought to; it was certainly a _unique_ piece, the stitching intricate in a way that didn't _seem_ normal. And now that he got a better look at it, there was the _faintest_ hint of a pattern to the redー looking almost like reptilian scales. Deciding it was too odd to give it any more thought, Leon reluctantly pulled it off himself, and folded it so it wasn't in a messy pile on the couch.

Trying to sit up was a challenge, though Leon pushed through with a grunt of effort, and took proper stock of his surroundings. The place looked worse, somehow, though maybe Leon only noticed now that he wasn't suffering from a mild concussion. There were books _everywhere_ , scattered like a tornado had torn through, which he had to frown a bit at, considering how old some of them looked. Pages brittle and yellowed, spines broken and intricate gold-lettering faded into ineligible smudges. He tried to reach for one closest to himself, but paused when a sharp pain stabbed into his side, forcing him to retreat.

Rubbing over the sore spot, Leon willed the pain to subside while he took to cataloging the area again. Piles of miscellaneous tucked into corners looked like trash, but Leon could pick out the shape of odd trinkets that didn't look _valuable_ but certainly important. There were various statuettes in varying degrees of neglect, artistic style he couldn't quite pinpoint. Things he would see in museums or seventh grade history books, mostly. He also saw a vanity mirror with a large crack right through the middle, and a box of old record tapes. There was a hairbrush and a scarf made of a fiber that didn't look plant- or animal-based.

If he hadn't known Dante was somehow connected to the _things_ Leon fought yesterday, he would've written the man off as an eccentric hoarder. All this together pointed at something specific, but Leon was still missing clues, and he was reluctant to admit that he was snared by the mystery of it all. His thoughts strayed back to the man in question, and as if summoned by Leon's wandering thoughts, Dante appeared through a swinging door, looking as startled as Leon felt.

“You're awake.”

Leon continued to stareー because, while intellectually, he _knew_ Dante was the muscled type, the coat had somehow hid the _extent_ of it. It made him seem taller but shapeless; with it gone there was, well, _shape_. Broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist, toned to high hell that he strained the shirt he was strapped into, and left Leon both mystified and completely jealous. A jealousy he hadn't felt since high school when the seniors were already settling into their new strengths and physiques, and Leon was still a scrawny freshman with an oddly pitched voice and thin arms.

Leon pushed the thought out of his head before Dante could even have a chance at reading it on his face, though the man had picked up on _something_ , because he was looking down at himself.

“Nope, wearing pants.” Dante seemed to say more to himself than to him before looking back at Leon. “What? Do you not remember who I am?”

“Dante.” Leon said it carefully, as if making all this more real just by uttering it. He suddenly felt tired and regretted getting up. The couch, surprisingly, had been comfortable and Dante's coat had been warm. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A day, more or less.” Dante made his way over and leaned against the edge of the desk beside the couch, eyeing Leon carefully. Leon couldn't decide if it was out of suspicion or worry. “How are you feeling?”

Leon paused, pensive, and found he wanted to answer honestly. There was nothing to gain by telling Dante he was fine, except to write himself off as a stubborn liar the second a sharp pain brought Leon down. He had to gain the man’s trust; present himself as a cooperative prisoner until Dante showed his true colors. Hopefully by then, Leon wouldn't be held together with twine and a prayer. “Like I ate coal. Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Like I need to be somewhere else; like all of this is some fucked up dream. I’m exhausted, in pain, and hungry enough that I might start eating the pages in some of these books you have thrown around. Like my head is stuffed with cottonー and I keep seeing feathers whenever I blink. I… I think I remember dreaming about an owl but it felt so _real_.”

Dante hummedrealng and low in his throat, but shrugged in the end. “That's weird. Think it meant something?”

“I’m not sure…” Leon frowned, not certain what he found unsavory about Dante’s reaction, but decided not to press. There were other matters he wanted to deal with first. "Do you have a bathroom in this place?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dante gestured vaguely towards the rest of the building, and moved to stand. “Upstairs; want me to carry you?”

Leon stared, a brow rising towards his hairline. Dante only grinned at himー all boyish charm and innocence that triggered an odd feeling in Leon. He had this sudden thought of ruffling snowy-white hair, and quickly shook himself free of it. He knew Dante hadn't done it on purpose, but still glared.

“I can get there myself. Do I look like a damsel in distress?”

“I meanー”

“Stop. Just tell me where to go.” Before waiting for a response, Leon took great pains to stand, feeling like his entire chest was on fire and the base of his spine was oddly twisted. Dante was there suddenly, hovering ー concern on his face that in no way seemed fake. It unnerved Leon, so he pushed Dante away with a weak hand. “You pick me up and I punch you.”

“I was only suggesting because it'd be faster.” Dante’s humor couldn't entirely hide his lingering worry, though he made no move to actually touch Leon. He just stayed close.

“And I still have my dignity.” Which was starting to look useless when he needed help by the halfway point up the stairs, legs trembling like a newborn foal. And he really shouldn't have felt comfortable with someone's hand on the small of his back, but the leather of Dante's glove was warm and smooth, the latter contrasted by twin points of rough pads that had him breaking out in goosebumps.

Thankfully, it wasn't mentioned, and the short distance up the rest of the stairs and into a dark hallway was done in relative silence. And by relative, Leon meant he didn't respond to a single thing Dante deemed fit to utter. It was all nonsense filler, probably to distract Leon, but there was nothing that could make him forget the slow throb that ran just under his skin. He couldn't remember being this worse for wear before, and he'd certainly suffered enough hell to warrant it.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He found himself cutting Dante off, less out of irritation and more his inability to let a conversation go without tossing a quip or two in.

It didn't sound that way to his own ears, but Dante didn't seem to mind one way or another. Or, more likely, didn't care, as he steered Leon into a room. It was obviously the master bedroom, with a connected bathroom and an oversized closet that still wasn't big enough to hold the clothes spilling out. All women’s, in varying stylesー strewn everywhere in a similar chaos to that in the room below.

“Trish won’t mind if you use her bathroom. Cleanest out of the two.”

Clean was not the word Leon would've used, but nothing seemed to be growing on the walls or floor, so he didn't pay any mind to the various towels, clothes, and beauty products left strewn everywhere, and reevaluated his preconceived notions that women were always neat and organized. They could be just as sloppy as men, apparently.

Dante used his foot to knock the toilet lid down to help Leon sit down on it, Leon too thankful to finally have a chance to catch his breath to argue that he could've done that himself. He took a moment to rest while Dante fidgetedー obviously wanting to do something for Leon but not knowing what. Leon got tired of that quickly.

“So, do you follow all your guests into the bathroom?”

Taking the hint with a huff and a cheeky smirk, Dante turned to leave. "You should take a shower while you're here; I'll find some clothes for you."

"Are you saying I smell?" Leon called after the man, but Dante didn't deem it worthy of response. Just a pointed salute Leon could only see from the back and a request to _"holler"_ if he needed anything.

Something Leon was definitely not going to do, even if it hurt getting his limbs to move the way he wanted them to. But he was soon relieved and stripped bare, taking care to unwrap the bandages so he could get in the shower. There would definitely be scarring, the wounds still angry and redー bruising spread like a topographic map across his midsection. No wonder it hurt to move.

Climbing into the tub and under the heavy spray of warm water, tense muscles loosen and grime rinsed off in waves. The water around his feet had gone from an alarming shade of red to a dull pink in just a matter of moments, and with great pains, Leon brought the vibrant color back when trying to wash his hair. The blood, which he was skeptical of calling it that, had congealed and stuck to his hair like gelatin, falling in tiny lumps every time he ran his fingers through.

The feel and smell had his empty stomach violently revolting, and every time he hunched over, his bruising flared and forced him upright again. There was no comfortable way to get through this, and Leon's arms got tired before he could get all the gunk out. His legs followed soon after, giving out entirely as muscles quivered and knees buckled. It was thanks to his quick reflexes that Leon managed to keep from falling completely on his ass, grabbing the shower curtain and tearing it off metal rings on his way down.

Landing in the ceramic tub shot a wild pain up his spine, and Leon couldn't stop the yelp of pain that followedー enough of a holler to have Dante barging in shortly after without knocking. He looked startled, _concerned again_ , and Leon had a moment to realize the blood dripping out of his hair probably didn't look comforting.

Grunting through the pain, Leon tried to stop the hands from scooping him up. “It's not mine. I slipped, that's it. Didn't bang my head.”

Dante didn't look convinced, but he did look like he was close to laughter now that the immediate danger had passed. Be it Leon's withering glare or his own sense of politeness (Leon bet the former), he said nothing, kept his laughter to himself, and shut off the shower with a pointed twist of the wrist.

“Going to let me help you now or did you want to injure yourself further?”

“Do I have much of a choice?” Leon gritted through his teeth, taking Dante's offered hand to sit himself up, shower curtain pointedly settled over his lap and arm angled to try and conserve an ounce of modesty. His would-be-protector laughed then.

“You're not packing anything I haven't seen before, pal.”

“Let's try to keep something private for the honeymoon.” Leon hoped to make his point across with a glare that Dante seemed to accept with a roll of the eyes and hands raised in surrender. He sat on the edge of the tub, turned the faucet on instead of the showerhead, and looked around for something.

Dante pulled out a plastic container that once held bath salts from under the sink, rinsed it out, and filled it up again to dump the contents right on Leon's head. He had anticipated it but still felt no less humiliated by the turn of events.

"You usually this moody in the mornings?”

"Do you give all your guests complimentary baths?" Leon bit back while trying to keep the dirtied water out of his mouth.

" _Only the pretty ones_."

Once Dante got a lather going in his hair, and the smell of lavender replaced that of rot, Leon finally felt a little more human and not just a water balloon filled with feeling. The way Dante's fingers ran through the strands, blunt nails massaging into his scalp, definitely helped ease Leon's mood. He couldn't remember the last time anyone did this for himー touched him with purpose _and_ care. Because Dante could've done a half-assed job of it to get it over with, but he was being thorough and Leon was helpless to it.

He privately wondered if there was a service like this somewhere.

"Head down." The barest of pressures had Leon following the order without question, eyes and mouth closed as more water was tipped over his head. Fingers brushed through again, working out the soap, and like Leon had been helpless since the start of all this shit, he was helpless to the deep, rough groan scratching the back of his throat.

Shoulders went tense and eyes opened despite the steady drip of soapy water. Somewhere above, Dante had gone still tooー fingers still in Leon's hair and bucket steadily dripping what water remained inside.

Before Leon could think to fake an injury to try and explain the reason for the noise, there was a poorly concealed snort that soon bubbled into chuckles and outright laughter, too loud in the small bathroom as it echoed and made Leon miserable in fantastic new ways. He could feel the heat of a blush crawl over skin, could even feel his ears burn, and shied from it by covering his face in both palms.

If the laughter had ended there, maybe Leon could've salvaged whatever dignity he had left, but Dante had to get up and excuse himself from the room, only to laugh more loudly in the main room. The sound carried, and Leon wished he really had died of his injuries. Would've been better than this humiliation.

It felt like such a long time after when Dante finally managed some semblance of control over himself and reappeared, face red and tears in his eyes. He took one look at Leon, not having been able to move from his spot in the tub, and he turned tail with the sound of another wheezing fit. Leon barked over it to be heard.

"Can you just give me a towel!"

"I'm sorry; _I'm sorry_." Dante reappeared againー all bright smiles and friendly cheer. "Let me just finish and then I'll leave you alone."

Taking up the bucket again and filling it to the brim, Dante _seemed_ to have gotten over his fit, but Leon would not he tempted in putting his guard down. He glared on ahead, resolved himself not to enjoy the drag of blunt nails, and was completely prepared for Dante's airy comment.

"You **really** enjoyed that, didn't yー"

Ripping the container out of Dante's hand, Leon threw the water into his stupid, smug face and was satisfied by the sputter and curse than followed. Fair hair was plastered to Dante's forehead, dripping almost sadly onto the tiled floor, but Dante himself was still smiling, if a bit ruefully.

"I enjoyed _that_ ," Leon said as he threw the plastic aside, trying and failing not to ooze satisfaction at such a petty attack. He should be above such actions, act like the mature adult between them, but it wasn't fair that Dante got to have fun at his expense.

" _Fair enough_." A lazy chuckle rumbled between them, and Dante lifted his hands to push them through the wet patch of hair to slick the mess back.

The transformation was startling, enough to dampen Leon's brief mirth into curious confusion. He'd never seen someone turn into a _completely different person_ just by rearranging their hair, and Leon continued to stare despite knowing he shouldn't. He paid close attention to the shift of muscle and easy grace that seemed to come naturally to Dante as he stoodー a show put on by someone comfortably aware they were being stared atー and was transfixed when Dante pinched the collar of his ridiculous shirt and tugged on it to further expose the sliver of chest. Beads of water slid over pectorals and Leon watched them go.

The washing cloth tossed at Leon stopped his ogling.

"Finish up while I go get the clothes I threw all over the hallway when you shrieked like a banshee and scared me half to death."

Though teeth gritted and his annoyance came flooding back, Leon was a bit startled to find he didn't really _mind_ the jab. It felt like bait, certainly, but in hope to get Leon to play along. Like a dog nipping at the ankles because it wanted attention. Leon knew he shouldn't feel anything _but_ weariness around a stranger like Dante, and yet a little part of him had allowed it.

When he looked back up with a retort on his tongue, Dante was gone.


End file.
